


Red as Blood

by astarisms



Category: Satan and Me (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Life/Death AU, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7267714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astarisms/pseuds/astarisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Given that his touch can literally kill, Lucifer has grown accustomed to running. Natalie won't let him anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red as Blood

**Author's Note:**

> For an AU where Natalie is Life and Lucifer is Death. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr under the same username!

i.

_Breathe in…_

He pulls the cup from his lips and immediately his eyes are drawn to the tea leaves at the bottom. Soggy but fresh just two seconds before, it wasn’t difficult to tell that they’d browned. 

Not to someone like him, who’d grown accustomed to what death looked like in all his years with his ability. 

_Breathe out…_

He pulls his gaze from the cup to her and immediately notices her eyes are drawn to the abundance of plants around her. Green and flourishing just two minutes before, it wasn’t difficult to tell that they’d wilted. 

Not to someone like her, who’d grown accustomed to what death looked like in the few months she’d spent with him.

ii.

There’s a tightness in his chest that he hasn’t known since he was a child and he hadn’t known how to control his power. 

It’s been years since he thought of his touch as a curse, and yet here he was, walking away from her small, pastel apartment overflowing with life and wishing there wasn’t reason to. 

Wishing the touch of death was a burden for another to bear. 

He feels his blood boil and his hands curl into fists and for the first time in a long, long time he resents who and what he is. 

He never considered himself partial to love, never cared for missed opportunities, until he found her. 

_Her,_ with her fiery hair and personality to match. 

_Her,_ with her touch full of life and a smile to match.

 _Her,_ who wilted around him just like the flowers she beckoned with a wave of her hand. 

The one person on the entire planet he could touch without fear of hurting her, and yet he did regardless. He couldn’t kill her, but he could kill everything around her. 

Watching that bit of life fade from her eyes was more than he could take. She deserved more than him. 

She deserved someone just as full of life as she was.

That someone was not him.

iii.

She’s worried. 

He can tell by the flowers she sends him, first a curious bundle from a sycamore, then a concerned coltsfoot, then an apologetic purple hyacinth. 

He picks up the last bulbous flower, watching it wilt immediately with his touch. He closes his eyes, curling his fingers around it tightly, before dropping it.

The black petals fall out of his hand, onto the floor, and he’s left with the crushing reminder that this is who he is. He can’t change that. 

He turns his eyes skyward and inhales deep, trying to soothe the ache her absence instills in him. Of course, it doesn’t work. 

She’s always been the only one who could make him feel normal for once.

She’s worried now, but he’s hoping she’ll abandon her efforts to reach him when he continues to keep his distance. 

And it’s for the best, he’s convinced. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts him; to stay away from the one person that was immune to his curse, to abandon all hopes of ever getting a somewhat normal relationship, to hurt _her_ in the process of it all. 

He’s always been a selfish man but he can’t be selfish with her. And as much as he wants to be, to keep her for himself, he _can’t._

He can’t do that to her. Leaving her alone, cutting himself out of her life, it’s for the best.

Before he inevitably squeezed the life from her, just like he did with everything else. 

iv.

He underestimates her. 

It’s a bad habit he has, of lowering his expectations, forged from years of people running from him the moment they see what he can do. 

He should have known, though. It’s Natalie. She not only meets his expectations, she goes above and beyond and tears down what defenses he’s spent years putting up to protect himself from the rejection that always comes.

She’s bursting with love, determined to give it to everyone she comes across, leaving a piece of herself with all the people she touches. He’s never met someone so dedicated to getting close to him, and yet here she is, breaking all his walls and breathing her life into him.

Except it’s not her, not in the flesh. Instead, she presents herself to him in the shape of a single rose in his pathway, stopping him in his tracks. 

It’s brilliantly red and stark against the barren winter backdrop. He thinks, for one morbid moment, that it’s as red as all the blood he’s got on his hands.

As it sits there, demanding and invasive and furiously impassioned, he’s unable to tear his eyes away, unable to even find the icy air to breathe into his shuddering lungs.

All the days she’s spent sending him flowers, messages that she’s left him to decipher concealed in each, have all come to this. He doesn’t even need to look in the small flower dictionary he’d begun to carry around to know what it meant. 

A declaration of love. 

He grants himself another moment to stare in shock, then his brows draw together in frustration and anger; anger at himself for being who he was, frustration at her for her unrelenting insistence on being in his life despite how desperately he tried to stay away for her sake. 

With a withering glare, the flower wilts and dies before him, and he makes sure to step on it as he continues on his way.

v.

There’s nothing for a few days. No surprise flowers, no letters begging him to come see her again, no pleading voicemails wanting to know what she’d done wrong. 

He thinks she’s finally given up, after he’d effectively taken the offer of her heart and killed it, ground it into the dirt with his boot.

Of course, things never work out the way he wants them to, so it’s with little surprise and the beginnings of a headache that he greets the banging at his door. 

He opens it a crack to find her there, red in the face and out of breath, her hair windblown into a tangled mess. 

She’s still easily the most radiant thing he’s ever laid eyes on. 

Before he has to chance to even ask what she’s doing there, she’s pushing his door open and shoving her way inside. They both stand there for a minute, just staring at each other, before Natalie finally speaks.

“You can’t avoid me forever, dude.” 

He doesn’t answer her, just continues to stare. Natalie swallows and takes a step closer to him.

“Why are you doing this?” 

More silence, the only indication he was even listening the crease between his brows. Natalie takes another step, reaching for his hands. 

He backs away and for a moment she stands, crestfallen. Then, she steels herself and grabs his fingers before he even has the chance to refuse her. 

“You can’t run from me forever,” she whispers, looking up into his eyes.

“Yes, I can.” His voice isn’t what he planned on, it’s rough and grates hoarsely over his words. Natalie squeezes his hands. 

“Tell me why,” she pleads. “I deserve that much.”

She’s met with silence again, and him avoiding her eyes. She releases his hands, throwing her own up in frustration. She feel the tears burning hot and she struggles not to let them fall. 

“Do I not? Am I not worth the explanation for why you suddenly hate me?” she cries, and that strikes a chord within him, one that has his gaze snapping back to hers, molten and burning and _angry._

“You know that’s not it.”

“Do I? I don’t know _what_ it is, Luce. You won’t _talk to me.”_

“Fuck, Natalie! Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“Please, because I don’t understand what happened to us.” 

“That’s exactly it. Nothing happened to us. Nothing can _ever_ happen to us. For fuck’s sake, kid, you are _literally life._ ”

“Yeah? So?” she says, sniffling and wiping beneath her eyes to catch the stray tears that have fallen without her consent.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, running his hands through his hair. “You’re life and I’m _death._ Everything I touch _dies._ ”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. It’s not like we’ve established that a least a million times over.”

“We’re _opposites,_ girl. You - you build, you _create_. And I just destroy all of that. With one touch everything you’ve done is undone.”

Natalie, confused up until this point, finally seems to be catching on. She gives a shaky, watery laugh.

“You’re worried about me? You can’t kill _life_ , Lucifer. Even you know that.”

“No,” he says, his jaw working, “but I can kill everything you make. Don’t think I haven’t seen the looks you give your flowers when you think I’m not paying attention. Me killing them, it hurts you. _I_ hurt you.”

Natalie freezes, shocked by his words, eyes widening. 

“Is that what… Luce, _everything_ dies. Just because I can bring something into this world doesn’t mean I keep it there. Everything has a timestamp, you just speed up the process. I won’t lie, it does hurt a little to see them go see quickly, but death is a part of life.”

She takes a deep breath, waiting until he’s looking at her again to continue. 

“Just like… just like _you’re_ a part of _me_.” 

It’s his turn to stand wide eyed in surprise, and Natalie takes the opportunity to approach him again. She stops just inches before him, looking up at him. She smiles and it steals his breath. 

“Kid, I…” 

“The rose was a bad idea,” she says, cutting him off. “I admit it. It wasn’t the best way to tell you something so important. But I… I love you, dude. I don’t want you to go. Stay with me… Please.” 

His breath shudders and he looks at a loss for words. She reaches up, cupping his face tenderly, and feels his hands settle at her waist. 

“You can’t hurt me, Luce. Not unless you leave.” He nods, leaning down slightly to accommodate her, bringing their faces within inches of each other. “Promise me… Promise me you’ll stop trying to get away from me.”

“... I promise.”

He feels her exhale against his lips, relieved, and then she closes that last little bit of distance between them.

vi.

_Breathe in…_

He can't say he's surprised by the spark, the electricity that he feels the moment their lips touch. It's always been there between them, in every little glance and every accidental brush of their fingers. 

She’s always ignited something within him, from the very beginning.

 _Breathe out…_

She can't say she's surprised by the calmness, the overwhelming sense of peace that she feels the moment their lips touch. It's always been there between them, in every little moment of lapsed silence and every shared laugh.

He's always tamed the fire within her, from the very beginning.


End file.
